Scars
by Vilkacis
Summary: Many years later, Shizuru reflects on her past...


**Note:** Okay, the site is being odd and the version I uploaded two days ago seems to fade in and out of existence. So I'm giving up and just deleting and reuploading. Anyway, as I said before, I appreciate all the readers of Evolution who are waiting for an update, yet I seem to be at a writer's block for that and it won't budge so I have no idea anymore when to tell you to expect an update. Anyway, here's something I wrote for a journal community. It's a bit different from the usual fare, it's not fluff but I'd hesitate to call it angst.

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If someone had asked Shizuru after her graduation if she would ever forget about the events that had happened during her years at Fuuka Academy, she would have told them no and given then an ambiguous smile. She would have meant it too, the answer, and whatever lay behind that misleading curve of her lips. For at the time, the events had so deeply branded her she could not fathom forgetting them. Scars fade though; the days passed and those turned into months and then years and soon the HiME festival and all the events that had happened during it had faded into the back of Shizuru's mind.

It was not that she forgot per se, it was simply that time had eroded the memories and other events had carved their own place inside her mind instead. She grew older, her life went on and she kept very little contact with people from her past. There were no reasons for her to dwell or even think about the unnatural events during her school years when she was trying to live a somewhat normal life. She had no desire to disturb the comfortable niche she had created for herself.

"Who was the first person you ever loved?" The question was asked lightly, but in a pressing way that made clear that there was an answer expected.

It was supposed to be a casual question asked over a casual lunch, but Shizuru found herself startled by it. She paused, the cup of tea halfway raised to her lips and looked thoughtfully through the wisps of steam at her companion. She already knew the answer, which had come unbidden almost immediately once the question had registered.

Kuga Natsuki.

Even if she forgot about the Orphans, even if she forgot about the Festival, even if she forgot about the Obsidian Lord and the First District, she would always remember Natsuki. It was not, of course, a constant dwelling on the other girl. The sound of a motorcycle revving in the distance, waves crashing against a rocky beach, the glimpse of a particularly cute piece of lingerie in a shop window; all these would bring to Shizuru's mind a fleeting image of Natsuki. The picture would fade though, usually as quickly as it came, and Shizuru would simply smile ruefully, then continue on her way.

Now though, with the question asked so bluntly and an expectant face looking at her, Shizuru found herself dwelling, remembering, thinking…and it surprisingly hurt. It was not a crippling pain, nor was it sharp or vibrant; it was more of a dull ache in her chest like a wound that had never quite healed properly.

It bothered her. How she still remembered little things about Natsuki that seemed so insignificant. The way she liked her tea or the way she would toss her hair angrily when things disagreed with her or even the way her cheeks would flush when Shizuru would prod her with a teasing comment.

She remembered too, the first time she had seen Natsuki; sitting on a grassy hill, alone and distant. Shizuru would have liked to say that she loved Natsuki from that moment, that the other girl's presence had attracted her from afar. The truth was though, her first glimpse of Kuga Natsuki had simply been that. A glimpse. She had turned her head and her eyes had lingered only briefly on the lone wolf and she had simply moved on.

It was not until a month later, when she finally came face to face with the girl, that she found herself inexplicably intrigued and hopelessly lost. It was a chance meeting in the gardens, though Shizuru had purposely approached when she had spotted the other girl. Words had been exchanged and Natsuki had glared at her, giving off the fierce aura of a wounded beast that did not want to be approached.

Shizuru, for being a properly raised, supposedly good child, had never heeded such cautions though, as her uncle had found out one day when she had tried to pick up a wounded stray cat they had found while walking. Then she had simply sustained a small bite, a few shallow scratches and a long lecture from her parents. The wounds she had taken from approaching Natsuki had been far more consequential.

Yet once she had tasted of Natsuki, once she had found herself captivated by those pained green eyes, by the hurt girl that lay beyond the harsh expression, Shizuru had not been able to break away. Then, as though from a distance, she had watched herself spiral further and further downwards into her complete obsession. She could not have stopped herself, and even now she could not say she would have wanted to. It was a perfect mixture of pleasure and pain.

Natsuki had, with some grumbling and glaring, borne the burden of Shizuru's affections well. In the end, she had never abandoned Shizuru, even after the festival. That had been worse in a way. Shizuru would have almost preferred being forced to suffer Natsuki's hatred or disgust; to be punished for her crimes. Instead she spent each day watching Natsuki smile at her, talk with her and still, as always, bear the teasing with a usual pout. It had been too much for Shizuru to bear.

Shizuru had been the one to walk away; before the madness took her, before she lost herself. Natsuki had accepted that as well, and though they had kept in touch for a while after, the letters and emails grew less and less frequent, and then altogether they stopped. There was nothing connecting them anymore, nothing to hold them together.

"Well?" The prodding was persistent and dripping with curiosity.

"You, of course," Shizuru said with a smile. There was silence for a moment, followed by laughter, and with each minute that passed, the memories of Natsuki found themselves buried deeper and deeper within Shizuru's mind, the open wounds fading once again to pale scars.


End file.
